First 2 stanzas of poem appear on pages 96 – 97 (and later) of Matched by Allie Condie

Do not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Though wise men at their end know dark is right, Because their words had forked no lightning they Do not go gentle into that good night. Click here to hear Dylan Thomas read it.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight, And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way, Do not go gentle into that good night. Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light. And you, my father, there on the sad height, Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray. Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Do not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Though wise men at their end know dark is right, Because their words had forked no lightning they Do not go gentle into that good night. Click here to hear Dylan Thomas read it.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight, And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way, Do not go gentle into that good night. Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light. And you, my father, there on the sad height, Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray. Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Original TextModern English Translation Do not go gentle into that good night, (1a) Old age should burn and rave close at day; (b) Rage, rage against the dying of the light (2a) Don’t give in without a fight, Old people on their deathbed should resist, Fight, fight against death. Though wise men at their end know dark is right,(a) Because their words had forked no lightning they(b) Do not got go gentle into that good night. (1a) Though wise men know that death is inevitable, Because their life’s work have not left the significant impact that they desired, they do not accept death. Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright (a) Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay, (b) Rage, rage against the dying of the light. (2a) Good men, as they approach death, lament at how great their deeds could have been if they had lived longer, and thus they resist death. Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight, (a) And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way, (b) Do not go gentle into that good night. (1a) Adventurous, bold men, who captured the world around them only to later realize that the world they loved was slowly dissolving, they fight against the concept of death. Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight (a) Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay, (b) Rage, rage against the dying of the light, (2a) Serious men, dying, realize that even old, blind men have a say in how they die, so they refuse to submit complacently to death. And you, my father, there on the sad height, (a) Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.(b) Do not go gentle into that good night. (1a) Rage, rage against the dying of the light. (2a) And you, my father, on the brink of death, Cry now, passionately, for it will be both a blessing and a curse to me, and I beg you do not submit to death--fight, fight against it.

Sunset and evening star, And one clear call for me! And may there be no moaning of the bar, When I put out to sea, But such a tide as moving seems asleep, Too full for sound and foam, When that which drew from out the boundless deep Turns again home. Twilight and evening bell, And after that the dark! And may there be no sadness of farewell, When I embark; For tho' from out our bourne of Time and Place The flood may bear me far, I hope to see my Pilot face to face When I have crost the bar.

 Sammy, Melissa. “’Do Not Go Gentle into That Good Night’ by Dylan Thomas: Translation, Summary, and Analysis.” The Poetry Pundit. n.p., 28 Oct Web. 29 Mar  Tennyson, Alfred. “Crossing the Bar.” Poetry Foundation. Poetry Foundation, Web. 28 Mar